Family
by Enderkit
Summary: In a freak accident, Steve finds himself trapped in The End with a furious mother Ender Dragon. After slaying the beast, he removes the egg in order to keep the world safe from a dragon reborn. Unfortunately, this just may have been his undoing. A tale of the humor and inherent frustration that accompanies a family. Rated T for violence and minor cursing.
1. Chapter 1: Climax in The End

**_A/N_: Hello, this is Enderkit! This is my first story, and of course it had to be Minecraft xD **

**I would like to say a few words before the story begins - I noticed something that I want to clear up and prevent confusion and other such feels later on. _Family_ is in NO WAY intended to be a copy of _The End's Secret_ (I forget who wrote it, but they're awesome - you should go read their story :)). I know the two stories are somewhat similar, but I was working on this before I even knew _The End's Secret_ existed, so please don't start throwing BS like that. I plan to take _Family_ in a COMPLETELY different direction, just FYI.**

**We good? Good. Carry on!**

The clang of weapons clashing echoed through the void of The End, one a sword forged from the finest diamonds, the others the razor blade claws of the dimension's guardian. The battle had persisted for hours, long after the beast's wings had been injured beyond use and it was forced to ground level.

The black-skinned monster had sustained serious wounds, her magenta-purple eyes glowing with hate. Her opponent, a miniscule human that wore a hide of impenetrable blue-colored stone, continued to defy her by refusing to simply die. Unable to stand on one of her four legs, the Ender Dragon was forced to fend off his blows with only one clawed paw while the others were reserved for supporting her heavy, muscled body. Now that the membranes of her wings had been torn through by arrows and the passing slashes of that blasted sword, they had been reduced to dead weight on her back – she could not even use them to shield herself, for allowing further injuries would only cause her pain and provide an opening for the human's attacks. She had ordered her Endermen followers to stay back, to not interfere – this human was a threat, and even if it cost her dearly, she would not risk the lives of her people… and that of her future hatchling. With the last of her strength, until there was nothing left of her, she would protect the defenseless egg of her child.

Steve panted, and fought the urge to groan in pain. He didn't want to show weakness in the presence of his adversary, but his mortal body was reaching its limit. Scratched, bruised and battered, he held one arm clamped to his side, covering a gash the she-dragon had ripped into his flesh when he had stumbled. His armor had lost half its durability, his quiver of arrows was reduced to nothing, and his diamond sword was beginning to chip from the insane strength behind each of the dragon's swings. Half his time had been spent trying to destroy the crystals the beast had used to heal itself, yet the struggle had only intensified once he was forced to face the monster head to head. He was a miner, not a warrior. But he would not back down – this creature was dangerous, and if it somehow followed him on his way out of this void... he couldn't say how he knew, but something deep in his instincts told him that destruction would be inevitable. It was also the only way to open a portal back to the Overworld. He had no choice – he had to slay the dragon, if he was to ever return home, alive.

It was a perilous dance, with only the two participants. A dance of death, when the only mistake one makes is all it takes to cost them everything.

The she-dragon hissed, backing up slightly to dodge a diagonal slash from the miner. In a lightning strike, she attempted to clamp her fangs down on the miner's head and upper torso in a snakelike fashion, but he jumped to the side at the last second. She snarled at him, frustrated.

Steve quickly caught himself from nearly falling over as he dodged what would have been a nasty bite. The pain from his wounds was beginning to make his vision blur, but he fought to stay lucid. The dragon was hurt, and retreating, but still fully awake and furious.

Or so he thought. The she-dragon was also fighting the symptoms of her wounds, and had to shake her head slightly to dispel the creeping blackness. Her strength was draining away with every drop of purple blood she spilled. Glaring at the miner, she then tried to take advantage of her extended neck to head butt him back with her steel-hard horns. This time, the blow connected.

Steve felt the air leave his lungs as all 50 pounds of black-scaled muscle in the dragon's long neck worked against him, throwing him into the air. He landed on the hard End Stone, coughing as his body fought to regain the lost oxygen, and his shaking limbs betrayed him and refused to place him back on his feet.

The she-dragon made a noise of discomfort as the muscles in her neck wrenched from the strength behind the blow. Sensing her victory was near, she slowly edged away from the cave she had been defending and using as a protective covering for her back and sides, in an attempt to force the human to face her head-on - where her teeth and claws were located. Her tail dragging listlessly behind her, she growled and folded her crippled wings tighter to her body, one foot held in the air to keep from touching the ground as she stepped closer to the enemy.

Steve gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, drawing as much strength as he could from his broken body. If he ever got out of this mess, he would eat as many steaks and grilled pork chops as he could get his hands on back home, he thought. He didn't want to go down, not yet. Struggling back to his feet, Steve had an ominous feeling in his gut that this battle would be quickly drawing to a close whether he liked it or not.

The she-dragon felt it as well. Baring her fangs at the miner, she raised her wings in a defensive posture designed to make herself appear much larger as a scare tactic. Hissing and spitting, speckles of purple blood dotted the ground as they seeped from her wounds and between her sharp teeth.

Steve also took up a defensive position, holding his diamond sword between himself and the she-dragon.

They could both sense the tension behind this moment, that this next move would be the end of it all. One would survive this, or none, but not both would be walking away alive.

The two lunged at each other simultaneously.

Steve yelled a primal scream that echoed of eons past.

The Ender She-dragon, in turn, roared in defiance.

Only one of the drawn weapons hit home, and the loser fell to the ground, a mortal wound torn in their flesh.

Shortly, the victor collapsed as well, succumbing to the overwhelming damage done to their body.

**_A/N_: First chapter is short, sorry xD But what do you think? Too much violence? I kinda like the drama.**


	2. Chapter 2: His True Heart

**_A/N_****: Whelp, here's chapter two! It's a little longer than the others, whoops xD This is gonna be the context for the remainder of the story, so keep an eye out for possible hints and foreshadowing :)**

Steve felt shrouded in the blackness, wrapped in it like a blanket.

_Is this what dying feels like?_, he thought. _There's so much pain…_

He could almost see another color besides the blackness, half his view blocked by a sort of blurred pale yellow. He blinked, and moaned as his wounds throbbed. The pain was becoming clearer, as though his body was only just beginning to register that he was injured.

A sound like a gurgled panting came from his left, and he fought the shadows flitting across his vision. His arms and legs protesting, Steve drew his arms up underneath himself to support his upper body. Looking down, he could see the strange pale yellow that was the rippled End Stone underneath him he had fallen to.

He glanced to his left, following the sound. On the cold stone lay the Ender she-dragon, a diamond sword embedded in her torso as she drew her final breaths.

The she-dragon knew she was going to die. For all her strength, for all her determination, the human had bested her by ducking under her attack and slipping the blade between her ribs. She opened her glowing eyes and looked at the human with indifference. Her rage had vanished, along with the remainder of her emotions as death began to settle over her mind.

Steve stared back, unable to look away from those powerful magenta eyes that seemed to draw him in. He nearly shivered at the consciousness that burned at him from behind those eyes – he could feel the beast staring straight to his soul, regarding him as one would a curious insect that was too interesting to squash.

The she-dragon, in her final moments, used the last of her life to indeed read his thoughts. She saw the desire to return home, to save his friends from doom, misguided as it was. Inside his soul, there was kindness, consideration, and compassion. Before, she had been too enraged at his trespassing on her home to bother with doing so, but now she saw the truth. This human, scrawny and powerless as he may be, was no different than her, fighting to protect his loved ones.

She coughed, the noise bubbling as she gurgled on the blood from her wounds. _At least_, she thought, _I died at the hands of a worthy opponent_.

Steve watched as the light in her eyes dulled, and the Ender she-dragon rested her head back on the ground. The massive creature released a great sigh, and was dead.

He stood shakily to his feet, and walked cautiously over to the ebony-scaled corpse. The dragon made no further movements, and carefully, Steve pulled his sword from the body of his adversary.

It was done.

He had killed an Ender Dragon.

Upon removing the blade, a purple-pink glow began to spread across the corpse, originating from the fatal wound. The body seemed to crack, fissures opening in the skin as the light intensified to the point where Steve had to cover his eyes. With a resounding noise like an explosion, the light faded, revealing a massive fountain made of bedrock that poured with dark, transparent liquid. The fluid was almost intangible, and studded with little points of light like stars. The portal home was revealed.

Steve stepped up to the structure, and looked at it in awe. He was ready to go home, but…

He looked over his shoulder back at the corpse. With the release of the light, the dragon's body seemed to have crumpled and withered, as though the light had been a force supporting the muscles and bone. He could have sworn he saw the dragon looking at him with… almost respect, before it died? He didn't know, but it was too late now, anyway. The dragon was dead. In fact, he was feeling… pity.

By chance, he glanced back at the End Stone cave the dragon had been defending. Odd, it had been doing everything in its power to keep him from getting inside. Or had it simply been using it as a sort of protection? Maybe…

Before he could really register what was going through his head, the miner found himself walking away from the portal towards that cave. The End Stone curved in a rough, blocky circle-shape above his head, the interior almost as pitch-black as the surrounding atmosphere. He wished he'd thought to bring more torches, but he had never intended to enter this dimension in the first place – it had been an accident, a freak chance fall through the cave floor (or rather, the stronghold's _ceiling_) that had dropped him straight into the portal with no way out.

Steve ventured further into the cave, feeling the shadows deepen around him, making him nervous. Darkness equated danger in Minecraftia, for the most hostile of mobs spawned in darkness such as this. Light was safety, but there were no naturally occurring sources in The End. With every step, he grew edgier, more afraid of what lay at the end of the cave and scolding himself for being stupid enough to walk right in like some greenhand tunneler.

Eventually, his prayers for light were answered when the tunnel took a slight right curve. The dim air turned bright again as a hole in the ceiling let light – wherever it came from in this dimension – filter into the musty cavern. Blinking to let his eyes adjust, Steve beheld a strange configuration of blocks in the center of the oblong chamber. They were as dark as the night sky, with jagged edges and glossy surfaces. Obsidian. In the center lay a round object that was nearly so identical in color that Steve almost missed it, yet leaned slightly more towards purple than the deep blue-gray hints of the volcanic glass. The object was more or less a block tall, with thin horizontal grooves carved in the sides no thinner than a thread, no deeper than a grain of sand. The surface was speckled with lighter tones of gray and purple, and it was nestled almost comfortably in the rough, hard stone.

It couldn't be… but his eyes were not deceiving him. This was the Ender Dragon's egg, tucked away in a cave and resting upon a nest of obsidian.

Sifting through his inventory, Steve's only remaining tools were his enchanted diamond sword, which had sustained heavy damage from the fight, and a diamond pickaxe he had been using to mine. He felt reluctant to use the sword again – he would rather take it back home and repair it with some of his precious few diamonds in storage than let it break and waste the valuable Looting and Sharpness spells he had used experience to acquire. Could the diamond pickaxe do the job, and break through the egg's shell?

Slowly approaching the nest with the massive egg, Steve stepped over the rim towards the center, and looked down at the motionless object. Silent, he raised the pickaxe above his head, and prepared to bring it down upon the outer shell.

...the miner hesitated, feeling an unexpectedly powerful tug of opposition from his heart. His moral conscience was screaming, _it's just a baby… besides the egg never hatches without its mother_.

_Go on, do it_, his logical brain urged. _There are many more throughout this dimension, but the world could do with one less Ender Dragon on its hands._

A vision of the mother's final gaze stole into his thoughts, watching him with defeat and an unusual combination of powerful emotions he could not identify as she took her final breaths…

He brought the pickaxe down.

And destroyed the obsidian underneath it.

He couldn't do it. He wouldn't. It was horrible enough destroying one hostile, intelligent life out of necessity in a quest to return home, but to kill an unborn being who had yet to commit a single act of evil? That was nothing short of murder.

Making quick work of the obsidian, he removed the blast-resistant base from underneath the egg, causing it to drop to the ground with a _pop_. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around the large, heavy object, and quickly moved it to his inventory where he wouldn't have to worry about hauling its incredible weight. He was better off taking it back with him than simply leaving it here, he decided, where Endermen could show up and hatch it into yet another Ender Dragon, and all his efforts will have been for nothing. Besides, if what he had been told was true, the egg would never, under any circumstances, hatch without the presence of one of its parents, and only he could ensure something like that did not occur. After all, if that was the mother, he didn't want to stick around to see if Daddy made an appearance.

Steve didn't hesitate to leave the cave, then. Upon reaching the entrance, he passed by the body of the mother dragon, and glanced at it one last time. Silently, he got down on his knees and closed the she-dragon's lifeless eyes, and gave her a final nod.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, even though he knew no one would hear him.

With that, he turned back to the black fountain carved of bedrock and clambered up the side. Taking a deep breath, he leaped off the edge into the swirling, starry waters, and was immediately engulfed in shadows.

He felt suspended in nonreality as the portal transported him back to the Overworld. He could almost sense a warm presence nearby, a whisper of wind that passed by his head.

_Remember, crafter… you are not alone, and you are loved…_

**_A/N_****: I only uploaded a few hours ago, and two reviews and a follow already? Thanks so much for your support, guys :D! I'll be sure to keep working on this story - my ideas evolve as I go, and I just keep liking it more and more. :) -Enderkit**


	3. Chapter 3: Homecoming

**_A/N_****: Short chapter, but a humorous one :) Sorry for not uploading yesterday - had to drag my sister back to college, and that took about the whole day. Didn't have much chance to write then, but I worked a little so now I'm uploading again :D Enjoy!**

The portal from The End proceeded to dump Steve rather rudely back into the Overworld, Minecraftia.

"Ouch…" he muttered, sustaining a rough landing on his side after reappearing out of thin air. Rubbing the gash left by the she-dragon with his right hand, Steve got to his feet and covered his eyes with the other hand. The sunlight was blinding after the impenetrable darkness of The End, but he drank it in like a desert dweller that had discovered a freshwater well. The warmth of the bright block in the sky was comforting, and he heaved a great sigh of contentment.

He was home.

Once he had his fill of the daylight, Steve searched for landmarks. Thankfully the trees around him belonged to a familiar grove close by the cave system where he had been mining. Following a line of birch trees planted in a conspicuous line by the nearby villagers, Steve trouped back along a trail that led to his village, and subsequently his house.

On the way, he passed the marketplace. It was a tiny, bustling little community where NPC villagers and human crafters could trade goods with one another, although the NPC's tended to give bad offers. (Six emeralds for a Leather Helmet? Seriously?)

At the edge of the road stood the villager priest, Reverend Bruce. Upon Steve's approach, he gave a huge smile and stepped forward. The NPC saw the bruises, scratches, and other marks of battle scored into the diamond armor he wore, but hid his concern. Of course, he had to have been battling mobs, hadn't he?

"Stephen, you've returned! Where have you been, friend? Villager Elsa had stopped by your house to ask assistance with repairing her water well three days ago, but you had gone!"

"Three days?" Steve replied in astonishment. "That's impossible – I was only in the mines one night!"

Bruce frowned and twitched his large nose. "No, it has been three sunrises since anyone had last seen you, Stephen. Did you forget to take your clock with you?" This was unusual – the miner had a reputation for being prepared for just about everything. This was the reason why all the NPC villagers tended to turn to him for help for occasional tasks, such as retrieving a lost pig, or replanting saplings and sowing crop seeds.

"No," Steve said, and checked his inventory just to be sure. Yep, it was still there. The clock correctly read 'mid-afternoon', which was about the time he had fallen through the ceiling of that stronghold into the End Portal. "Hm… time must pass differently in The End…" he thought aloud.

Bruce gasped. "You ventured to The End? That was very foolish of you, Stephen! That dimension is populated by dangerous beings, and ruled by an even greater monster! What possessed you to enter such a perilous world?"

Steve rubbed a bruise on his arm self-consciously, now a little worried. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything about that black hole of a dimension. "It was an accident. I was mining some gold when some gravel blocks underneath me dislodged or something and the floor caved in over a stronghold. I ended up falling through the portal; I didn't exactly want to go there. But it's okay, Reverend – I escaped, and I'm fine now."

"Thank Notch for such good fortune," Bruce sighed. "If the danger has passed, then you must return home, eat and rest. In fact, I currently have a few loaves of bread. Would you like to trade some for a few emeralds?"

"No thanks," Steve politely waved him off, smiling a little. Even the Reverend was subject to the same behavior of poor marketing skills. "I appreciate the offer, but I have plenty of food stocked up in my house."

"Very well, then. Take care, Steve," the villager priest said to Steve's retreating back.

"And tell that crafter kid with the sunglasses to stop stacking gold blocks around my house! I don't care how obsessed he is with the stuff, I hate wasting my tools getting rid of it all!" Steve yelled over his shoulder.

Reverend Bruce laughed. "That may prove difficult. He refuses to acknowledge the metal as anything other than a fatty topping for cooked bread slices. I will try my best!"

Now leaving the marketplace, Steve trudged up the hill toward his oak wood house …

…only to see it surrounded by columns of metallic blocks the color of butter.

"Notch dammit," he groaned.

**_A/N_****: Spot the reference :D! ...Okay, it ****_was_**** a rather blatant one. I just had to give a little tribute to SkyDoesMinecraft, I had to. He's awesome, how can you not love that crazy budderball? Don't worry - I won't turn this into a story all about cameos, I just wanted to give one of my fave Minecraft Youtubers a little elbow nudge :). Oh, there's also a little less-known reference in there, too, regarding Minecraft language mechanics - in Australian English, the NPC villagers are called "Bruces", so I figured, why the Nether not?**

**Thanks so much for your thoughtful reviews, guys. I read every one of them, and they're all so helpful! Special thanks to Mellifluousness and her more extended review - I love your stories, they're awesome :D Stay cool, everyone! *passes out Enderman Spawn Eggs***

**-Enderkit**

**EDIT: Dangit, stupid file upload screwed up. Now I have randomly generated spaces in the middle of words?! What the fudge... Sorry, I'll try to fix it. If it happens again, IT'S NOT MY FAULT I SWEAR.**


	4. Chapter 4: Storing What Is Precious

**_A/N_****: Here's another chapter :) Yesterday was, once again, a challenge - I had homework and my parents insisted on talking colleges, so I couldn't work on it until late. But, here it is! Hope you like.**

"I swear to Notch I jinxed myself," Steve grumbled as he mined the last of the gold blocks that had been deliberately and inconveniently placed around his house, specifically inhibiting pathways to windows and doors. Sighing, he placed the heavy blocks in his inventory. It had taken him a lot of effort to clear his yard, so he decided that this time he would keep the blocks – maybe sell them later, for the ore was valuable to potion makers and circuitry forges for redstone rail contraptionists. At the very least, it would force the perpetrator to hold off on his trademark pranks – although, that kid somehow managed to always turn up more of the stuff. How, no one knew.

Steve stretched, holding his arms over his head. The muscles ached from being forced to work before they could rest and recover from his escapade into The End. Opening the door to his house, he stepped inside and closed it behind him, a sense of relief stealing over him. Now, he was truly home – in his house, in his land, in his world. Nothing could touch him here – no mobs, no ridiculous jokester kids, no freaking Ender Dragons.

Before he did anything else, he stored his diamonds, gold blocks and redstone ore in his vault chest, as well as the chunks of Lapis Lazuli in a special compartment. The blue stone was dusty; more loosely grained than other materials, and could be used to make dye – however, it also had the potential to stain whatever he stored it with.

Dropping his diamond tools on the kitchen table, he wandered into his other storage room and opened the chest that held his spare coal stacks. Selecting about a dozen pieces, Steve walked over to his smelting furnaces and placed his collected gold and iron ore in the oven slots, the coal in the fuel burners below. Setting the blocks to cook and extract the precious metals from the stone, he moved on to another of his storage chests. In this one, he placed what remained of his armor – a sturdy diamond chestplate and some diamond boots with a Feather Falling enchantment. It wasn't the best equipment, but if it could hold up against an Ender Dragon, it was just fine for him.

Speaking of which, he had to figure out what he was going to do with the egg. It was the only remaining item in his inventory.

Removing it, he held it in his arms and set it on the kitchen table. It looked completely out of place in his humble wooden house, not to mention entirely conspicuous. He couldn't just leave it sitting around in plain view should someone came knocking – what would he say, 'Come on in; don't mind the massive egg of the world's greatest threat resting on the kitchen table'? Yeah, _that_ would blow over well.

_I have to store it somewhere… it feels wrong to just stick it in a chest, though_. It almost felt… disrespectful. He felt almost guilty, having killed the mother of the unborn hatchling in a hard-won battle, and he had been thinking about shoving her child in a box. He winced at the thought. That was cruel, even though he knew there really wasn't anyone to judge him, and he resolved not to do so for the health of his own moral conscience at the very least.

But that left the question – what was he going to do with it? He held his chin in thought, and glanced over at the back wall of his house, contemplating.

His house had been built into the side of a cliff, the back wall consisting of the smooth stone surface. He didn't really have the time to build another room for the thing - the sun would set soon and it would be too dangerous to be outside constructing when mobs were roaming. Perhaps he could hollow out the side of the cliff? It would be faster, and the chance of a mob spawning was much lower.

Snatching his diamond pickaxe off the table, he set about carving out a medium-sized hole in the smooth stone, collecting the cobblestone as he worked. Eventually he had a square antechamber to the kitchen, the walls completely made of smooth stone with the occasional dirt block in the floor. Placing a torch on the wall to prevent unwanted guests, he went back to the storage room to access his crafting table and make a door.

Satisfied, he opened the door to the simple little complex, and grabbed the egg back off the table. Hauling the heavy object into the room, he set it down and placed one of the collected obsidian nest blocks in the center.

With a feeling of finality, he lifted the egg one last time, and placed it on the makeshift pedestal. Dusting off his hands, he smiled and walked out.

The egg was safely in storage, where no one would get to it. Now, he could really relax.

Dropping the remaining obsidian and cobblestone in his storage chests, he moved his diamond sword to the anvil, but decided to just leave it there. _I'll fix it in the morning_, he thought, exhaustion beginning to settle in.

Without much ceremony, he flopped down onto the wool mattress of his bed and quickly wrapped himself in the blanket. He sighed in contentment, his muscles relaxing as his body focused all remaining energy on the process of healing.

Outside, the sun dropped below the horizon, and Steve fell asleep.

**_A/N_****: Kinda short, but I figured this would be a somewhat important chapter. The next few chapters are going to be very crucial to several aspects of the story, so you better be paying attention ;)!**

**-Enderkit**


	5. Chapter 5: Trouble in the Night

**_A/N: _****Late upload again. This time I don't really have much excuse xD - played Minecraft with friends for several hours, had a Creeper nearly blow up my house, again, and finished constructing my jungle tree house in the middle of the desert. The usual.**

Steve jolted awake, sweating. He sat upright, looking left and right to see the familiar interior of his bedroom. He sighed, and sat cross-legged on the bed, his head in his hand.

_It was only a dream…_ he thought with relief.

The nightmare was still fresh in his mind. He had been wandering through the forest, chopping down trees to make wooden planks for a repair job to his house when a cacophony of hissing erupted all around him. He had been suddenly surrounded by creepers, their mournful faces staring with hollow eyes at him as they prepared to detonate the volatile chemicals in their stomachs. It was his worst fear, caught in the open with mobs and imminent death approaching. When the creepers exploded, he was thrown into blackness. Complete and utter nothingness.

Before he could wonder if he had survived or not, a cry had pierced through the darkness. It was a sound unlike any he had ever experienced in his life, and it terrified him. It sounded afraid, and tormented beyond imagining. Worse yet, it sounded young, like a child. The cry made him feel drawn to something, something buried deep in the blackness that he couldn't see, but for some unknown reason he could sense was there. It felt like a rope around his waist was pulling him towards the sound. He searched for whatever was calling to him, and was met with the furious purple eyes of an Enderman, which snarled and brought down its claws across his chest.

At that moment, he had awoken.

Shaking, he pulled the blanket tighter around him as he waited for the trauma to pass.

But the feeling of being tugged didn't vanish. If anything, it seemed to intensify.

"What the Nether…?" he muttered aloud.

Steve glanced out the window, saw the light of the moon pouring in through the glass pane, and frowned. It was still the middle of the night. That blasted nightmare had woken him too early, and now the tiredness was starting to torment him again due to the insufficient sleep.

The feeling still had yet to fade. "Ugh…" He was beginning to feel uncomfortable, like he shouldn't just be sitting around in his bed. "What could possibly be so urgent that I have to get up at moon-high?!" he growled. He didn't want to leave his bed, but the tugging sensation insisted.

"Fine," he said to no one in particular, and pulled the covers aside, stepping down from his bed. The air in the house was a little chilly, and he shivered. Following the pull of, of… whatever-it-was, he wandered out of his bedroom and into his kitchen. The feeling strengthened, and he glanced over at the single wooden door that rested in the center of a smooth stone wall.

A sense of fear washed over him. The primal instincts buried in the back of his mind were throwing up red flags and signaling him that something was amiss in that room. The room with the egg of the slain Ender Dragon. Had someone broken in? Was his subconscious telling him the egg was about to be stolen?

Snatching his diamond sword off the anvil, he ripped the door open... to be met with the sight of an empty room, the egg resting on the obsidian pedestal just like he left it.

"…Wh-… what…" he said, looking left and right, utterly confused.

Nothing. The cold stone room was empty save for the egg and a few torches.

Snarling, Steve threw his sword back to the anvil, clamped his hands against the side of his head and said a few choice curses. "Got up in the middle of the night…" he muttered to himself, "and for what? An empty room. Brilliant."

He turned, resolved to clamber back into bed and bury himself under the sheets, when something stopped him.

He wasn't sure why, or how, but he was almost positive that the egg was the source of his anxiety. But why? The thing would never hatch, and it was hidden away. No one knew it was in his possession.

He shivered again. The stone walls had not yet absorbed heat from an appropriate light source, and as such it was the coldest room in the house. "Hm…"

Steve left the room, and returned a few minutes later holding a spare blanket. He felt bad that he had left the egg in a room that could almost pass as an ice chest – after all, locked and immobile as it was, it was a living creature. "Freaking conscience, pestering me at half-past moon-high. Can't believe I'm doing this…" he mumbled to himself, and draped the blanket around the egg.

Almost immediately, the tugging feeling subsided.

Too tired to care, Steve sighed and shut the door behind him on the way out. Without a moment's thought, he crawled back into his bedsheets and bundled himself up. Within minutes, he was once again asleep.

**_A/N_****: I've got back into my writing groove, so today will probably be a double-upload :D Steve, I hope you're ready for what's about to go down...**

**-Enderkit**


	6. Chapter 6: Awakening

**_A/N_****: Sorry yesterday wasn't a double-upload after all :( But hey, I DID finish the cover art - that took a couple hours. Nevertheless, let's get on with the story!**

I'm alone.

I don't want to be alone.

I'm cold.

I can barely hear noises coming from outside.

I'm surrounded by walls, but they don't comfort me. They confine me. Trap me.

It's still cold.

I want to cry out, but the walls keep me silent.

I want warmth. I don't like the cold.

I long for warmth.

I want comfort.

But no one can comfort me. Not through the walls.

I need warmth, I NEED IT.

I-

…

Someone's outside.

…

I'm-…

…I'm warm?

Someone gave me warmth.

I'm happy.

Someone made me happy.

Wait…

I'm still trapped.

I don't want to be trapped.

Someone left. They're not outside anymore.

Come back!

…They're gone.

I don't want them to be gone.

I want to be with my parent.

They made me happy.

But I'm trapped.

I don't want to be trapped within these walls.

I don't want these walls.

…I will break these walls.

I push at the walls.

The walls cracked.

I'm breaking the walls.

The walls shattered, and I see light.

I'm… free.

I'm in a small square room. All I can see is a glowing stick on a wall of hard gray stone, and a tall flat brown thing on the opposite wall.

I'm sitting on a shiny black cube-thing, wrapped in something soft. It's warm, but only a little.

The real warmth, of body and soul, is not here.

The someone is not here. My parent is not here. Where are they?

I can sense more warmth nearby, on the other side of the tall flat brown thing.

I hop off the black square, and land on my foot.

That hurt!

I cry a little, but the someone, my parent, cannot hear me. I lick my foot, and put it down carefully. It doesn't hurt that much anymore.

I walk up to the tall flat brown thing. It's blocking another room. I push on it, and it swings open with a _creak_.

This new room is much bigger. There are weird things all over the place I don't recognize, of many shapes and sizes. None of them are warm. The warmth comes from the someone, the someone who's not in here.

Where is my parent?

I follow the warmth of heart, seek it. The warmth is behind another tall flat brown thing, and I push this one open too.

I can sense the warmth. The someone is here! I found my parent!

My parent is sleeping – they're in a nest of the soft material I was sitting in when I broke the walls that trapped me. I stumble over, and clamber onto the nest that is almost too high for me to climb. I'm not strong yet, but I know that with my parent, I will be someday.

My parent turns over, making sleep-noises, but doesn't wake.

I curl up in the soft nest material next to my parent, and make a happy noise.

I'm warm now, I'm comfortable, I'm sleepy, and I found my parent.

I'm happy.

**_A/N_****: Guess who :D? I'm sure a lot of you saw this one coming. And now, the antics will commence.**

**-Enderkit**


	7. Chapter 7: Surprise!

**_A/N_****: Sorry for not uploading - had drama with homework and parents and such. But I think this uber-long chapter should make up for it :D It's what you all have been waiting for...**

Thin beams of light filtered through the glass pane of Steve's bedroom, the morning sun climbing above the horizon. The world gradually began to change from the dim, cool colors of night to the bright, warm hues of the day. Indigo plants turned leaf green, shaded flowers turned to yellow and red, and navy turned to light stone gray.

Outside, the rooster from Steve's tiny chicken pen crowed, announcing the new day to everyone within thirty blocks.

Steve blinked and yawned. The full night's sleep had done him wonders – most of his wounds had healed, the pain had been reduced to the occasional throbbing and soreness. He wasn't even sure his little nightmare and midnight trudge had been real, or just part of another dream. He felt much better – maybe he could get some work done around his little farm after he repaired his tools.

Stretching, he resolved to have a nice big breakfast of fresh bread with some cooked chicken eggs and maybe pork chop.

That is, until he sensed and felt a foreign presence sitting next to him on the bed.

He looked down to see a black object lying atop the red blanket, rising and falling as though breathing.

Steve froze. There was a creature on his bed. Curled up, he couldn't tell what it was, but the shape was oddly familiar.

Very slowly, very carefully, he extended one hand to touch it.

The heavy breathing stopped, and a head perched atop a long neck poked up from the black bundle, glowing purple eyes staring at him with curiosity.

"_AAAAAAAHHH!_" Steve screamed, scrambling backwards off the bed and falling to the floor.

The creature stood and shook itself, a pair of black and gray wings unfurling and a long tail waving back and forth. Down the length of its neck, back and tail was a row of tiny spines, identical to the steel-colored horn stubs on its head. It opened its mouth and gave a happy squeak, stumbling over to the edge of the bed where the human had fallen.

"No! NO! It can't be!" Steve yelled, back against the wall as he stared at the hatchling with abject fear.

The hatchling didn't seem to notice, and hopped off the bed. It kept following the human as he retreated several steps at a time, thinking his parent simply wanted to play.

Steve was struggling to overcome the paralyzing fear and wrap his head around the situation. What stood before him was an impossibility. The Ender Dragon chick was meant to never hatch, and yet here it was, in plain view and tailing him with the tenacity of a wolf.

The hatchling stumbled over one of its feet, and flopped to the ground rather clumsily. Still a newborn, it was not yet used to walking around on all fours. It made sounds of protest, and tried to untie its knotted limbs.

The rather pitiable sight caught him off guard for a few brief seconds, and Steve hesitated.

The hatchling floundered back onto its feet, and continued to approach the crafter. It made happy noises and pawed at his leg, trying to get his attention.

Steve flinched and yanked his leg away, retreating even further. The hatchling cocked its head, and gave another squeak.

_What do I do, what do I do?!_ Steve thought frantically. _Maybe I'm imagining the whole thing…_

He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times, but the hatchling did not vanish as he had hoped. It simply sat on its tail and watched as the human proceeded to slap himself.

"Wake up, wake UP!" Steve said to himself, even though he knew that he was most definitely awake. His mind was frantically trying to make logical connections, but he knew there was only one thing he really needed to see to confirm his worst fear.

Dashing from the room into the kitchen, the hatchling on his heels, Steve froze at the sight of a single wooden door, set in smooth stone, left wide open.

"No way…" he muttered, walking up to the door way and stepping inside.

No egg rested on the pedestal of obsidian. The blanket lay on the dark block, wrapped around scattered shards of a thick material that was curved, iridescent, and cracked like black sea glass.

He stepped forward, and tentatively touched one of the shards. It wobbled a little, but remained very real and tangible. He picked up the fragment, stroked the surface, and turned it over in his hands, examining it with the expert eyes of a miner. The interior was deep black with a mother-of-pearl type shine, but the exterior was purple-black with horizontal grooves no thinner than a thread, no deeper than a grain of sand. Without a doubt, this was a piece of Ender Dragon egg shell.

Wary, Steve looked over his shoulder at the hatchling, which had tailed him back to the room. It seemed to be sniffing around, content to simply follow the human wherever he went. He watched as the hatchling stepped up to the obsidian, grabbed the edge of the spare blanket in its mouth, and tugged it off. The hatchling proceeded to fiddle with it, digging under it and scratching at it with its childlike curiosity.

He realized that, at the very least, the hatchling was harmless as a newborn. It had no sense of vengeance, malice, or anything that would indicate something besides a blank slate of a mind. It had no acquired taste for blood, nor did it want to cause harm.

It wasn't a threat… yet.

_It wasn't supposed to hatch. It was meant to never, EVER, hatch without a parent! What the Nether went wrong?!_

A rather unpleasant suspicion began to take form in Steve's mind. Slowly, eyes on the hatchling, Steve took a step backwards towards the door.

The hatchling immediately stopped playing, and poked its head up from within the folds of the blanket, watching him with wide purple eyes.

Steve took another step back, and then another.

The hatchling gave a squeak of alarm and fought to be free of its self-made prison, dashing across the floor to Steve's side. It tripped once, but caught itself from a nasty faceplant, and quickly stood by the human's leg. It looked up at him, waiting and expectant.

Steve sank to the floor and groaned. "Great, just great," he thought aloud. His suspicion was correct. The dragon chick was treating him like he was its parent. In the absence of another Ender Dragon, it had latched on to the nearest sentient being.

_How had this happened?_, he wondered. _Did I screw myself over by taking the egg back with me? Should I have left it in The End? …No, it would be much worse if I had left it there. But now what do I do?_

The hatchling had decided that its parent wasn't going to leave after all, and once again began exploring the room. Steve stayed sitting on the floor, cross-legged and deep in thought, frowning.

He knew that his options were limited.

Steve could return the dragon chick to The End, but then that would defeat the purpose of him taking the egg in the first place.

He could simply boot it out of his house, but he doubted that would be effective. He had a feeling that this creature would willingly break things to get to him, and had the capability to do so, and he didn't want to have to repair the home he had built with his own two hands.

Steve absolutely refused to kill it, which would have been both the easiest and most difficult choice. Offing the dragon chick would eliminate any and all present and future problems, but the idea was abhorrent to him. The hatchling was too much like its mother, whose life he had stolen. His heart remained steadfast to the course it had selected in the End Stone cave, rejecting the possibility before it even made an appearance – he would never commit senseless murder, not even if it was the child of an Ender Dragon.

There was also… something else. Something deep inside that had taken root within his heart and mind. Now that he looked back on it, he remembered sensing it when he had first locked eyes with the hatchling. It was similar to the pull he felt in his nightmare, and the tugging force that had willed him to enter the stone room late at night. He couldn't tell what it was, but it felt… foreign. And strong. The force of it backed up the emotions of his heart. _You DON'T WANT to kill the hatchling, and you WILL NOT_, it seemed to say.

Unsettling, but true. Steve didn't want to kill it, and he wasn't planning to, anyway.

_I have to do something… I can't just stay here and keep an eye on the thing. But WHAT?_, he thought. He did have work to do around the house and farm, and he had to go to the marketplace for errands. But he couldn't just leave the hatchling alone. Maybe he could tell it to stay indoors, and not break anything? …Yeah, right.

But it was worth a shot in his book.

"Um…" he said, unsure how to start. "Er… hatchling?"

The hatchling stopped sniffing around the floors and turned to look at Steve. The hatchling was still a newborn and did not yet possess the legendary intellect of its species, but even as children Ender Dragon hatchlings were incredibly smart. It couldn't speak Craftian, but it could tell that its parent was addressing him by the miner's tone and the way his eyes were following the hatchling.

The hatchling bounded over, tail wagging like a dog's, and looked up at its parent with an almost worshipful gaze.

"…You, uh, need to stay in here," Steve said.

The hatchling tilted its head.

Steve got the impression that it didn't understand him. "STAY. HERE. Okay?" he emphasized his words with hand gestures in hopes of getting the message across.

The hatchling stood and sniffed his hands, but gave no indication that it was going to stay put.

Steve sighed. If that wasn't going to work, he had to come up with something else.

His eyes fell on the obsidian block resting alone in the center of the room. Maybe he could use it somehow…?

A redstone lamp turned on in his head.

Silent, he left the room, the hatchling following without hesitation. He walked up to the kitchen table and snatched his diamond pickaxe. Returning to the smooth stone room, he set about destroying the obsidian block. When it collapsed into a smaller floating cube of itself, he picked up the block and put away the pickaxe. The hatchling watched with interest, having never seen anything of the like.

Steve eyed the dragon chick, and made a quick dash to the wall opposite the door.

The hatchling squeaked and raced after him. Before it could catch up, however, Steve pivoted on his heel and ran back towards the door. The hatchling made a noise of surprise, and scrabbled to grip the smooth stone floor with its tiny claws. Steve bolted through the door, slamming it shut behind him. Before the hatchling could follow, he placed the obsidian block on the ground just outside the door.

The hatchling pushed at the door, but the obsidian served as an unbreakable doorjamb. Steve grinned. His trick had succeeded. Now the hatchling wouldn't be able to tail him on his errands to the village.

Behind the door, the hatchling began to whine.

The sound made Steve pause, resonating in his soul in ways he did not expect. The foreign power he could feel that had lain dormant in his heart was starting to rise up, making him reconsider his plan. The instinct – he decided it was – was screaming at him that to leave the hatchling behind was the worst decision possible. Trapping it left it at the mercy of anyone who should decide to show up, and could very well lead to its-

Steve shook his head. _What the Nether am I thinking?!_, he scolded himself. _It's not in any danger, and I can't take it with me to the marketplace – it would cause massive panic! Pull yourself together, Steve – you're freaking yourself out over nothing!_

He glanced over his shoulder. The hatchling was watching him through the window of the door, its eyes wide and sad. It continued to make crying noises, and bumped at the door with its head in an attempt to join its parent.

Steve did feel bad for confining it to the room… but there really wasn't anything else he could do, not now at least.

He sighed, grabbing his spare trading goods and supply bag from one of his storage chests. "I'll be right back," he said to the hatchling, which pleaded with its eyes to be let out.

Steve opened the front door to his house, and walked down the pathway back towards the marketplace.

**_A/N_****: Well, what do you think? I couldn't resist having the hatchling scare the bajeezus out of him xD**

**On another note - I will try to upload the next chapter again later today, because I'm going to be gone visiting colleges for two days. Just FYI!**

**Oh, and in response to a review - no, my name is not a reference to Warriors. I read that series and loved it to bits, but no - Kit is just an Enderman with Bat genes resulting from the two mob groups spawning too close to each other *pokes profile*. Nice try, though x)**

**-Enderkit**


	8. Chapter 8: Young Courage

**_A/N_****: I'm back! Geez, I keep fudging up chances to double-upload... sorry.**

My parent is leaving.

No! I don't want them to leave! I want to be with my parent!

My parent spoke to me. I don't know what they said, but they talked to me. They tried to sooth me.

They love me, I know they do.

Please come back! Please!

…They left again. I don't want to be alone again!

The tall flat brown thing isn't working now. It won't open. Move! It won't move.

My parent got it to move. Why can't I move it?

Hm… well, if I can't move the tall flat brown thing, I'll go around it.

These walls are hard. I push them with my paws and scratch them with my claws, but they don't break like the first walls that trapped me.

Hmph.

The gray walls won't break, but what about the brown spots? They don't look as tough, but they're fewer – only one small square on the occasional spot in the gray walls.

There's one near the tall flat brown thing. I walk up to it, and start scratching at it with my claws. The surface cracks, and I start to scratch faster. The brown square crumbles under my claws and turns into a tiny brown cube that floats. I sniff at it, and it smells like earth.

That's what my parent did with the black square. I did something my parent could!

My parent left, though. I need to find them!

There are more brown squares in the wall. I dig them out, too, going down and then up. After the last one, I see light. I poke my head through the hole, and I see the large room filled with strange things. I made it out! Now I just have to find my parent.

I can sense them, but they are far away and getting farther every second.

I follow the sense that tells me where my parent is. It leads me to another tall flat brown thing, but this one has much brighter light coming through the holes in the top. I push at this one, and hope it moves.

It opened!

The world outside is bright, and… huge! It's big, very big and open!

There are weird things, big things, everywhere that I don't recognize, and I'm afraid.

…And my parent is somewhere out there.

I feared I would never find my parent, but I still have the sense. I can follow the sense that tells me where they are.

Even though I'm scared, I WILL find them.

**_A/N_****: Short chapter, awaaaaay! Lol, sorry. The next one is much longer, trust me. Anyways, the story is starting to develop - what do you think? Should Notch/Jeb implement dragon hatchlings into Minecraft? I think it's an awesome idea, a proper reward for all the effort you expend to hunt down the Ender Dragon in the first place; make the baby tameable, and then have an awesome ride with over nine thousand health or something so it lasts through all your adventures :)**

**Anyways, please review and tell me what you think - I love getting feedback, and I read every one of them! Thanks so much for the commentary so far, to all of you ^^**

**-Enderkit**


	9. Chapter 9: Errant Errands

**_A/N_****: OMG, SO sorry for uploading a week later. I got caught up watching Tekkit and fooling around on Tumblr - btw, I got my first account, KitEnderbat, basically an Ask/Storyline/RP Tumblr where I can post little story oneshots and answer questions involving my OC (and avatar) Kit the Enderman/Bat mob hybrid, through her mouth of course :). She's still in development, I'm wondering if I should continue writing the actual fanfic I started a while back - with her and a couple other mob hybrids as the main characters - sort of explaining who she is, where she comes from and the in's/out's of hybrids in mob society. Maybe I'll post it here, who knows? ANYWAYS, on with the story - extra-long and enjoyable chapter this round :3!**

"Heya, Steve!" one of the resident human crafters greeted the miner. "You look a little outta yer head, man, didja catch enough z's?"

"Ah, no, Tranin, I'm fine," Steve said politely, hoping to dissuade the curious crafter. He had been trying to avoid contact with other people while he finished his errands – he was sure that he still looked off-balance from the unexpected events of this morning, and one of his neighbors had just confirmed it. "I, uh, had a nightmare is all." _At least that's telling the truth._

Before the crafter could continue the conversation, Steve walked away as fast as courtesy allowed. _I've got to get these errands over with – thanks to that hatchling, I'm half out of my mind, and… what the Nether, why do I feel this pull in my head urging me to get back home?!_ Steve shook his head, and groaned. The instinct that had warned him against leaving the dragon chick was steadily strengthening, leaking into his thoughts and pointing all metaphorical fingers towards the path back home where the dragon chick was waiting.

Steve ground his teeth and pushed onward, although it seemed to take slightly more effort to do so.

_What is wrong with me?_, he thought. _Am I going crazy? Did hatching the dragon chick affect my mind somehow?_

He pressed forward with an increased sense of urgency. He was beginning to freak out, and he knew that if he wanted to keep his sanity in front of the remainder of the marketplace, he'd have to finish his jobs quickly and get back home – and hopefully discover the cause of his discomfort. Thankfully, all of his errands could be accomplished in one particular location.

He quickly scaled the staircase to the Lazy Spider. The large wooden structure served as an inn of sorts for travelling crafters- miners, mob hunters, builders, all types of human residents could bunk there – but the first floor had become a sort of hub for tradesmen of all types, coming in from the many corners of the world. The place was by no means large and well-known, but the town was situated on the border between a large variety of biomes – from jungle, to forest, to extreme hills, to desert, to taiga – and as such was a popular rest stop and resource base. In fact, most marketplace trading took place inside the Lazy Spider – the only outdoor trading that occurred was typically by NPCs, and their infamous dealing tactics were too well known.

The wooden doors swung open with a slight creak, and Steve stepped into an almost tangible atmosphere of friendly chatter and the aroma of fresh food. People and NPCs were everywhere, bartering and swapping stories about the various encounters they had during their travels.

Steve didn't want to waste any time. He navigated through tables and passerby to reach one particular counter, the headboard labeled with an oak tree symbol. The residents of the Forest biomes tended to have the widest variety of goods to sell, although typically not the rarest, and his list was rather extensive today. With any luck, they could fulfill all of his trade requests.

A crafter in a leather tunic and mining pants was standing behind the counter today, accompanied by another in a striped shirt, denim jeans and a pair of rain galoshes. They smiled and greeted Steve as he approached.

"Salutations, fellow crafter! Looking to trade today?" the crafter in the tunic said. "My name is Alan – if you need food, tools and building materials, I'm your man. Talk to my brother Gil, if you're looking for weapons and armor." Alan indicated the man in the galoshes to be the individual in question.

"What can we do for you?" Gil asked, his voice slightly rougher than his companion's. His face bore scars that spoke of battles long and difficult.

The urge to return home was increasing, but Steve beat it back. _SHUT UP!_, he screamed at it in his head, fighting to keep a neutral smile on his face. The conflicting emotions were starting to show, and the traders looked a little confused for a moment before he responded, rather loudly, "Yes, I need some tools and farming supplies! Some armor and weapons would be nice, too."

"Ooh, you need business from both of us! Very well, what do you need?" Alan asked politely.

Steve removed the paper shopping list from his pocket, and examined it. "Let's see, I need some more wheat seeds, a few carrots, an iron axe, and a new hoe-"

"We all need one of _those_, bud," Gil snickered.

Alan smacked his arm. "Gil, this is business with a customer! Shut your mouth, or I'll do it for you!"

"Fine, fine," Gil chuckled. His attitude seemed to indicate that he had heard this particular threat before, and was not very fazed.

Steve didn't even notice. His mind was divided between conducting the trade business and squashing the growing force that was starting to evade his control. His foot twitched, on the verge of breaking into a sprint for the door. All he had absorbed of the exchange was that the two were not discussing his trade requests, and were wasting precious time. He had to hurry them up, or he would lose it.

"So, uh, yeah, I have lots of ores to trade," Steve cut in, returning the attention of the two Forest tradesmen to him. "I also need a new pair of iron leggings, and maybe an iron helmet. Oh, and a diamond sword."

Gil whistled. "That's some heavy-duty gear, sir. It might be pricey."

"I'm sure I can pay for it," Steve said, catching himself looking towards the door.

"You alright, there, sir?" Alan asked, concerned. "You look a little on edge."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insisted, giving the best fake smile he could manage. "Anyways, the last things I need are a bucket, and two half-stacks of raw pork chop and raw beef."

"When you come to trade, you don't mess around," Alan commented, turning to access their chests behind the counter that contained trading goods. Alan's chests had shovel and wheat symbols above them, while Gil's bore sword and helmet symbols.

Steve began to tap his foot at a rapid pace – not out of impatience, but out of suppressing the sheer need to move, to bolt from the counter at top speed from the inn, down the road, and back to his home. He was now openly looking to the front door, finding it really difficult to look anywhere else.

The traders returned to the counter with the goods, and eyed Steve with curiosity.

"You in a hurry?" Gil asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Uh, yeah!" Steve replied, wrenching his head back to face the two. _Might as well go with it._ "I really need to get back home, I'm, uh – expecting guests, and I really wanted to finish some things around the house before they show up."

Alan nodded. "Alright, pal, then we'll make this quick. Here are your requested items-" the two brothers set the goods out quickly and neatly on the counter "- now, you make an offer."

Steve nodded. All the requested items were there – thank Notch for Forest biome residents – now all he had to do was pay. Thankfully, he had been prepared for a situation such as this, although he hadn't quite expected the life-or-death need to get it done quickly.

Without a word, Steve took his trading satchel and dumped the contents on his side of the counter. The wooden planks disappeared under a small heap of glittering gems and smelted ores that had been polished to perfection, reflecting the gaping faces of the Forest traders.

"Holy mother of Notch!" Gil exclaimed.

Alan's eyes were nearly bugging out of his head. "Is that Emerald?"

Steve nodded again, eager to leave and make the tugging of the foreign power stop. "Gold, redstone, lapis, and a few emeralds. They're valuable, but I don't have any use for them, and I really need those tools, so this should just about cover it."

"I'll say!" Alan said, snatching an emerald and examining it. "How the heck did you find all this?"

Steve gave a genuine smile this time. "Mining is my profession, but I can't do much with most of what I find. Emeralds are pretty useless unless you want to trade with NPCs, I don't know a thing about redstone wiring, I don't really need to dye anything, and we all know that-"

"-gold sucks," the three said in unison. It was an inside joke among nearly all human crafters, especially miners, because the smelted ore was valuable and sought after for its beauty, but any tools crafted from it break within the hour.

Steve chuckled, foot tapping even faster. "Yeah, that's right. So I tend to sell off most of what I dig up as soon as I get it. I usually only keep the essentials. The only thing I really have trouble getting rid of is redstone – everyone can find it nowadays."

"I see," Alan said, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, sir, you most certainly have a deal! Here are your items," the brothers handed Steve the equipment and supplies over the counter, "and you have a good day!"

"Thanks," Steve said, quickly scooping the goods into his satchel and throwing it into his inventory where the weight wouldn't trouble him. "Bye!" he yelled over his shoulder as he took off, the two Forest traders watching him with surprise.

Just in time. He didn't have the strength to avoid the pull anymore.

The foreign power, no longer being redirected or suppressed, burst forth in full strength, lending strength to his legs and giving his feet wings. Steve ran faster than he had ever thought possible, zooming down the road and crossing the causeway at incredible speed, passerby stepping aside to avoid a collision and staring in shock.

_What's going on?!_ Steve thought, amazed and afraid. The instinct still pointed down the road to his house, urging him forward.

A cry of joy nearly made him stumble, and he screeched to a halt. The sound was inhuman, but all too familiar.

A black and gray streak appeared on the road in front of him, slamming into him and knocking him flat. Winded, he sat up to see the dragon chick standing on his torso, squeaking in happiness and wagging its tail. It had found its parent!

The tugging feeling stopped, the foreign power dwindling to nothing. The supernatural strength departed, Steve gently pushed the hatchling off of him and stood, knees shaking. He looked at his hands, then down at the hatchling, which was watching him with its glowing purple eyes.

"I don't know what the Nether is happening to me," Steve told the hatchling, "but I think _you_ have something to do with it."

The hatchling tilted its head, swished its tail once, and remained silent. It still did not speak Craftian, but its capacity for learning increased by the hour. It understood most of what Steve was trying to say, even if it did not know the words behind it.

Steve sighed when the hatchling sniffed at his boots. "You're going to give me trouble, aren't you?"

The hatchling looked at him, gave a noncommittal squeak, and stood.

Steve grunted, and turned back to the road.

"C'mon," he said over his shoulder. "Let's go home."

**_A/N_****: Well now, what do you think of that? It appears that the presence of a dragon hatchling isn't so easy to deal with after all.**

**The three named crafters - Tranin, Alan and Gil - were NOT OC's. I just made up names that I thought sounded cool and fit the personality. I don't typically go into such detail for characters I'm not likely to ever use again, but that's just how I wrote it, 'kay?**

**...What's this 'gold' you speak of? I said no such word - all I know is butter. (I'm a big fan of Sky - I just had to keep the 'Gold Sucks' mentality to make the story more realistic and... minecrafty. Idk.)**

**-Enderkit**


	10. Chapter 10: A Lot at Steak

**_A/N_****: So sorry, school has been complete and utter hell. Just two weeks to summer, and I got my first job internship at an aquarium :D! -Enderkit**

Steve pushed aside the door of his house, feeling drained. His sprint all the way down the road practically to his front door had left him exhausted, although, he suspected with trepidation, not as much as he should have been. The hatchling followed him as closely as a tamed wolf, never leaving his side and with a skip in its step.

"You're awfully chipper," Steve grumbled. "How did you get out anyway?"

The hatchling responded with a series of squeaks and noises similar to a cat crossed with a bat, but none of them made any sense to the miner.

"Guess I'll just have to see for myself," Steve said, and adjusted the door so that it wasn't in his way-

Wait.

Steve stopped and looked at the door as his tired brain finally recovered enough to restore functions pertaining to situational awareness. It was open? Already?

He glanced back at the hatchling, which sat waiting for him to proceed with entering the house.

"Did you open this?" he asked.

The hatchling squeaked and wagged its tail once.

"Hm…" Steve stared at the door for a little longer, and then walked inside. Confusion took hold at the sight of the door set in stone, obsidian block firmly on the ground in front of it, still shut tight. "What the-… how the Nether-…"

The hatchling romped up to the wall beside the door and squeaked, sniffing at the small hole it had dug out of the tiny dirt section in the stone. It looked proud of itself.

Steve stepped over and bent down on his knees to examine the tunnel. It was a perfect one-block-high one-block-wide hole that led down into the dirt patch and back up into the stone room. The tiny dirt cubes floating in the open space magnetized to the miner, and were sucked into his inventory. Removing them, he counted them. Sure enough, they equaled in number the space the hole left.

"You dug this out, didn't you?" Steve said to the hatchling, which stared back at him with the closest he guessed an Ender Dragon could get to a smile on its face. "You can't just dig holes in the wall. This is my house, don't damage it."

The hatchling seemed to know that its parent wasn't particularly pleased with what it had done. Its tail drooped a little, it lowered its head and its wings sagged in a depressed posture.

Steve sighed and, unsure of what else to do, patted the hatchling gently on the head. It seemed to perk up, then, rubbing its tiny horns into his palm and making a soft purr-like noise. In secret, he was proud of the little dragon and a little awed at its intelligence – just a day after its hatching, it had outwitted a door that was, for all intents and purposes, locked.

A grumbling noise could be heard in the room, quiet yet insistent.

Steve turned red. _Whoops, I guess I never ate with all that craziness from this morning_, he thought sheepishly. Might as well put my latest purchases to good use.

He shifted the supply bag from his inventory to his hand, hefting the heavy satchel onto the kitchen table. The hatchling watched with wide eyes, having never witnessed such a phenomenon. To the dragon, it had appeared as though the human had reached into an invisible pocket and pulled a disproportionately large bag from thin air.

Steve unzipped the flap, and organized his loot into various chests. He removed the piles of raw pork and beef, hauling most of it to his ice-set chest for uncooked foods. This had the hatchling's complete attention, its purple eyes following the meat like an ocelot that had just spotted a particularly fat fish.

Placing the meat in the homemade freezer, Steve selected two pieces of steak and closed the lid, locking it tight. Picking up some potatoes and coal on the way, he set the meat on one of his furnace tops, the potatoes on the other, and gently tossed the coal into the fuel burners. In minutes, the aromas of delicious foods were wafting through the air, tempting the miner's senses.

When he heard the sizzling and popping of the cooked fat, he gauged that the meat was done. A square of napkin paper in hand, he gently scooped the hot meat onto a wooden plate with the baked potatoes. He carried the plate to the table, pulled out his favorite chair, and sat down to eat.

A whimper temporarily drew his gaze from his meal. The hatchling sat by his feet, staring up at him with pleading eyes. When it gained its parent's attention, the hatchling stood on all fours and wagged its tail a little, hoping to garner sympathy.

Steve looked momentarily confused before noticing that the dragon chick's eyes flicked occasionally to the steaming meat that sat on his plate.

It whined, and pawed at his leg.

Steve nearly slapped himself. Of course. The hatchling was hungry, too.

But what do they eat? He honestly had no clue, although he was sure he could guess. They didn't have teeth and claws for nothing. He HAD placed a second piece of steak to cook…

Now that he thought about it, why had he done that? One steak, especially with potatoes, was plenty for a crafter to get by on. He hadn't done it consciously – he had just been running on autopilot, so to speak. Then again, never before had mindlessly preparing his dinner led to the production of a food surplus. Was that strange instinct messing with him again?

Before he could even think of how to proceed, however, the sight of a sleek black shape on the table returned him to the present. The dragon chick was attempting to pilfer his steak, straight from the plate.

"Hey! No! That one's mine!" Steve chased after the hatchling, which proceeded to bolt from the table and race around the kitchen, steak clamped in its tiny jaws.

The scene would have been rather humorous to the miner had the subject of torment not been the child of a deceased Ender Dragon. And nobody. NOBODY. Takes. His. Food.

As a newborn, the dragon child tired quickly of the running. Steve seized the opportunity and leapt across the table. Snatching the steak in his hands, the two began to play tug-of-war over the meat.

The hatchling made a noise that sounded like a cross between a dog growling and a cat. "Mrrrreeeurrr!" it said, the sound muffled as it tried to speak around the meat in its jaws.

"Notch dammit, let go!" Steve growled.

The hatchling released the meat as if on command, and flew back a few blocks. It landed on its haunches, and looked back at its parent with sadness. Its tiny stomach growled, upset at the loss of its meal. The chick lowered its head, and sniffed sadly.

Steve froze. He hadn't meant to upset the poor thing. Hearing the sound of its own hunger struck a chord of pity. He knew what it was like to live in mines for days on end, not knowing when you'd get the chance to see your next meal – needless to say, it was one of his less pleasurable experiences.

He looked down at the steak, and sighed. "Here, just take it. I guess I'll just get the other one," he grumbled, offering the meat back to the hatchling.

The hatchling dropped all sadness right then and there. It gave an excited yip and accepted the steak, chomping into it eagerly.

~/~

I knew it!

I knew it!

My parent _does_ care about me!

My parent loves me!

MY PARENT LOVES ME!

**_A/N_****: What do you think is going to happen next? Tell me what you suspect is coming up. I can't wait to see your reactions to how the next chapter starts - I can almost guarantee that what you think will happen is completely wrong xD. Trolololol.**

**-Enderkit**


	11. Chapter 11: The Trouble with Children

**A/N: DELAAAAAAAAAAAAAYED. So sorry. So, so sorry. Graduation sucked up everything. Not to mention I had training for my internship this last week, so yeah.**

**On with the story - some of you had very good guesses as to what the Ender Dragon chick would do this following chapter. Some suggested the hatchling as a dragon mount, some said the chick would speak in Craftian, some said the hatchling would transform into a human.**

**Those are all incorrect.**

**Because this:**

And then it bit him.

"YEOOOOW!" Steve cried in pain as the small fangs sank into the flesh of his right forearm. He yanked his arm away, and the dragon chick let go just as quickly.

When the hatchling released him, it didn't appear angry, remorseful, or any emotion that would suggest the negativity he expected to see behind its actions. Instead, it was openly gazing at him with adoration, as though the painful bite had been an expression of love. In regards to Ender Dragons, Steve thought, who knows, it probably was.

But that didn't excuse the behavior. There was no way that had been an accident – Steve's arm was too far away from the food at that point, it could only have been deliberate. That would not pass for whatever time it spent under his roof.

Steve grabbed the dragon chick by the scruff of its neck much like his old neighbors did with their cats, and glared at it. The hatchling looked at him with confusion.

"NO! That hurt! No biting!" he scolded.

The hatchling blinked. It did nothing but stare back, not flinching away from the direct eye contact. Deep blue stared into glowing purple for a few moments before Steve placed the hatchling back on the floor. He grunted, and turned to get the other steak from the furnace.

The hatchling coughed and made a gurgling sound, causing Steve to turn back around with the meat in his hands. It was shaking its head, its neck convulsing as though it were about to spit up a hairball. Mystified, he looked at the hatchling with concern. Was it sick?

He could feel the power that had driven him home resurfacing, and for a moment, Steve was afraid. But this time, there was no pressing directive – it was just… there, focused on the hatchling.

The dragon chick spat something onto the floor. A pair of tiny white milk teeth – fangs – bounced on the wooden paneling, making a slight _click_ noise as they fell.

_Fangs?_

The hatchling panted and opened its maw, pawing at its mouth as though it had bitten a cactus. It whined, and Steve watched in amazement as a new pair of incisor fangs replaced the two that had fallen out.

The human crafter had the strangest feeling that he had just witnessed something important, profound. The instinct, which had been waiting at the borders of his mind, departed once more.

Steve continued to stare before shaking his head as though dispelling a fog. _It's nothing, it's gotta be_. "I have no clue what just happened," he said, "but you're still in hot water for biting me."

With that, he turned on his heel and went to get supplies for his chores, flashing the dragon chick a look of disapproval over his shoulder. This time, the hatchling didn't follow, as it was too preoccupied getting used to the feeling of the newly emerged teeth. It rubbed at its muzzle with one paw, and smacked its mouth open and closed repeatedly, paying little attention as Steve gathered tools for his farm work.

Muttering under his breath and saying all things in the manner of insulting Ender Dragon kind, Steve picked up his new gardening hoe and the bags of plant seed. Closing the front door behind him, he trudged out to his front yard and tiny farm, favoring his right arm. He hissed through his teeth as the small wound throbbed, the pain an annoyance as he opened the fenced gate and set to work.

The hatchling, which had calmed down again, hopped up onto the nearest crafting table, and clambered up to a window. It pressed up against the glass, and watched as its parent tilled the earth. It did not know what its parent was doing, but it was aware that somehow it had angered him and therefore interaction would be difficult for the time being, so it watched with interest instead.

When Steve finished, he was tired and hot, wiping his brow of sweat from the direct sunlight. Shifting the hoe and fresh soil supply into his inventory, he took the remainder of the seeds to his small chicken pen. At the moment, he only owned three chickens, but he hoped that soon all of his efforts at feeding them would yield the reward of a fresh brood. Chickens were a very profitable livestock in Minecraftia, for they yielded not only a source of food, but also eggs and feathers to make arrows. Cows and pigs were very difficult to breed and tame, so in the absence of these, they were the best he could afford.

Exhausted, he trudged back to the house and opened the door again, his nearly-healed battle scars beginning to ache. The hatchling romped over, tail waving back and forth as it looked up at him happily. He glowered at it, and walked past with a grunt. After swiping some first aid supplies from a nearby chest, he set about bandaging his arm.

With the small wound wrapped to his satisfaction, he started to clean up the house. The hatchling followed him loosely, simply watching as its parent used a broom to sweep the week's dust and dirt of returning from mining trips off the floor and out of the house. The hatchling was steadily learning, absorbing the information of its parent's actions.

When his chores were finished, Steve was thoroughly beat. Sitting back at the kitchen table, he devoured the steak he had prepared for lunch. With food in his stomach, he felt a little better, but his arms and legs were still complaining at the labor he had put them through. His right arm, the one that had been bitten, was burning slightly around the puncture wound. He guessed that the skin and muscle tissue was healing rather slowly.

Golden-orange rays of the setting sun were shining through his windows. The sun was setting once again.

_Days always seem to pass quickly here_, Steve thought as he hauled himself from the chair and began walking back to his bedroom. He crawled back onto his bed, wincing as he put weight on his bitten arm. Pulling back the covers, he pulled up the sheets and settled down to sleep.

The bed leaned to one side as another weight began to pull on it.

Steve opened his eyes and saw the dragon chick attempting to climb back onto the bed with him.

"NO!" he said.

The hatchling froze. There was that word again, the one that had been said with disapproval. It stopped moving and stared at Steve from the edge of the bed.

"No! Go back to the other room!" Steve waved his arm at the hatchling, trying to urge it away.

It looked wounded, as though Steve's words had hurt it deeply. With a whine, the hatchling slipped back off the bed, and slowly began to pad out of the room.

Steve was about to turn over and try to snooze when that wretched tugging feeling returned. "Notch dammit, not _again?!_" he cursed, gripping the sides of his head. "Make it stop, agh!"

The hatchling stopped and looked back at him, momentarily distracted from its sadness and wondering why its parent was making angry sounds. At that, the tugging stopped again.

Steve groaned. "I feel like the rope in a game of freaking tug-of-war, what the Nether?! Ugh…" he looked at the hatchling, which was watching him curiously. He narrowed his eyes at it. "It's you, isn't it? You're the one doing this," he accused. The hatchling tilted its head, but said nothing.

Steve growled. As long as that stupid tugging persisted, he knew he would have no chance of falling asleep.

"Fine, get over here," he grumbled.

The hatchling gave a squeak of happiness and dashed back to the bed. It leapt, but didn't quite make it over the edge – as a result, it scrambled to climb up, flapping its wings to help it achieve the extra air it needed.

Steve raised an eyebrow. Of course- Ender Dragons could fly, couldn't they? But this one didn't seem to know how. Perhaps it was too young?

…He was too tired to think about it, though. His brain was rebelling against the notion of undertaking further thought processes.

The hatchling walked over the bedsheets and curled up next to Steve, making a purr-like noise.

He yawned, and pulled the blanket over his head. "Shut up…" he mumbled before falling asleep.

**A/N: Bet you didn't expect the hatchling to do something naughty, eh? To the hatchling, it probably wasn't, but in human society, biting people is a no-no. So yeah - you all just got trolled xD**

**And now, a little hint - pay EXTRA attention. ****_Everything_**** I write has a ****_purpose_****. I love foreshadowing. But what part is foreshadowing, and what isn't? I'm not telling...**

**-Enderkit**


	12. Chapter 12: Marked

**A/N: Delayed again, goddang it. Had summer camp for a week, so that put it off longer than usual. I have my inspiration back, though :D**

Steve blinked, eyes met with darkness.

"…Huh?" he thought aloud, pushing himself up from the ground. Last thing he knew, he had been falling asleep. Was it morning already? But it was too dark…

He looked around with apprehension. His house was gone, along with the surrounding landscape, his bedroom, and the Ender Dragon hatchling. Encasing him, on all sides, was nothing. Blackness, emptiness. Shadows.

Well, mostly. Underneath him, the ground on which he lay was an odd, familiar texture and color.

He leapt to his feet with a start. The small patch of ground on which he stood was composed of the rippled yellow End Stone, giving off its strange luminescence.

"What the- where am I?!" he said, now afraid. "Don't tell me I'm back in The End!"

Whispers trailed around him through the blackness, voices that sounded otherworldly. He froze. The voices were quiet, just out of range of his hearing, but one could be heard just slightly above the others.

_'…Marked… you've been Marked…'_

"What? What are you talking about? Who are you?!" Steve yelled into the blackness, turning around on his tiny patch of End Stone to see where the voice was coming from.

Nothing emerged from the never-ending blackness, but the whispers quieted. The one voice remained, speaking more clearly.

_'…forces in motion… cannot be controlled… too late to turn back…'_

"Turn back from what? What forces? Answer me!" he yelled, confused and downright frightened.

_'…are you… worthy...?'_

"Worthy? What? Please, who are you? _What_ are you? What's going on?! I want answers!"

The shadows themselves appeared to shift, moving as though they were the body of a gigantic creature, and a small light shone in the space before him. Through the shadows a single glowing eye appeared, and the sight of it made him fall backwards in fear.

The eye was green around the edges, gradually fading to white and then an iridescent purple closer to the center. The middle of the oddly-colored eye was divided by a slit pupil black as night, which gazed down at him impassively. It looked like…

As he stared into that eye, his right arm began to burn. With a cry of pain, he clutched it to his chest and looked down. The bite the hatchling had given him was there, and he watched dumbfounded as the wound sealed over, glowing with a purple light. The mark left a scar – indentations in the shape of two thin jagged lines, contours of the dragon child's fangs. The scars were noticeably darker than the rest of his skin, a tone similar to the lighter colors of an Enderman's hide. The glow faded and the pain receded, but the mark remained.

Steve felt as though he were being watched. He glanced up, and the shadows were no longer empty.

Thousands of eyes – glowing, purple eyes – had joined the green eye in the darkness. Countless Endermen were watching from the distant emptiness, all focused on him.

Before he could reflexively hide his face from the deadly threat of a million violet eyes, the green eye tinged with purple was suddenly closer, the slit-pupil directly in front of him and watching with a supernatural intensity. When it spoke, the voice was no longer overlapped by murmurs or cut through with patches of silence.

_'Soon, the universe will test you. When the time comes, prove you're worthy of the Mark, Human.'_

The darkness that filled the world poured out around the eyes of the Endermen, smothering all glow until only the green eye remained, and even that was lost to the shadows as well. The shadows crept over the End Stone, and Steve watched in horror as the only stable ground within sight vanished.

With a scream, he plummeted into the void, falling for what felt like eternity. The shadows cradled him - cushioning his fall or speeding it up, he could not tell.

The world – his world – opened up beneath his feet. Mountainsides and cliffs came into view. Just as he was about to hit ground, his eyes snapped open to the interior of his bedroom as he fell out of his bed.

"Oof!" he said as he hit the wooden plank floor with a _thud_. Rubbing his head, he groaned and sat up. He was still wrapped in his blankets, having accidentally yanked them off with him. The dragon hatchling, which had been dozing atop those blankets, had been dragged rather roughly to the floor as well, and gave an indignant noise of protest as it struggled to get back on its feet.

"Sorry," Steve said.

The hatchling shook itself and gave a very catlike stretch. It yawned, its sharp new fangs on display for a brief second. It looked at Steve, who was leaning against the bed, trying to sort his thoughts.

Had it really been a dream? It felt so real, he wasn't too sure anymore. The images and voices did not fade as a dream would have – instead, they remained very real and persistently nagging at the back of his mind.

_'Soon, the universe will test you…'_

_What on Minecraftia could that mean?_, he thought. _And what was all that business about being 'Marked'?_

Deciding he would rather not remain on his floor, Steve stood and picked up the blanket, throwing it back over his bedspread. The hatchling sniffed around, curious about what the day might hold.

Steve fingered the bandage around his arm. His arm wasn't hurting anymore, but he couldn't decide whether or not this was due to the advanced healing physics of Minecraftia. He felt a little hungry, so it was probably just his body's natural healing capacity, or something.

_Might as well take 'em off_, he thought. _It's too hard going about my chores with an injured arm, anyway._

Grabbing the edge of the gauze, he lifted the tape on the secured end and began unraveling the cloth. The gauze wraps loosened, and fell off his arm to the ground.

A chill ran through his bones. The bite wound had indeed healed – and had been replaced with two jagged lines in the shape of fangs, the scar tissue the color of an Enderman's hide.

He jumped in fear, and tried desperately rubbing at his skin – no good, they stayed and all he accomplished were red friction burns.

_Oh crap. Crap, crap, CRAP! That wasn't just a dream! What's going on? What have I gotten myself into?!_

As if his panic attack was not well-founded already, fate decided to play fickle.

A pounding could be heard on his front door, and he froze. A familiar male voice sounded through the sturdy wooden planks of his house.

"Stephen! Are you home, friend? If you are, please answer! We need your help!"

It was Reverend Bruce. At his front door.

Steve glanced from the door, to his arm, and then to the hatchling which was looking at the door with interest.

"…_shit_."

**A/N: CLIFFHANGERRRRRRRR**

**Trolololol.**

**-Enderkit**


	13. Chapter 13: Villager Visit

**A/N: Getting ready for college is a pain. There's so much shopping and crap involved, not to mention I have my internship to worry about. I've also been spending a lot of time on my tumblr lately, KitEnderBat - if you want to chat with me, you can find me there frequently, or on my deviantArt account Mysticfeather.**

**On with the story!**

Panic was now a very well-seated emotion in Steve's mind.

The NPC priest was at his front door, he had a weird purple scar on his arm that he was sure was bad, and the dragon chick was up and about and appeared to refuse to obey any sort of order to stay put. The universe just seemed to hate him right now.

He frantically ran back and forth around the house, struggling to clean up any signs of the hatchling's presence. Grabbing the bandages he had unraveled previously, he rewrapped his arm despite the injury no longer paining him – it was the only thing he could think of to conceal the scar. He snatched his diamond pickaxe and swung it at the obsidian blocking the stone room, viciously hacking at the volcanic glass until it shattered and condensed into a tiny cube. Throwing the door open and rushing in, he hastily scooped the egg shell fragments in the blanket he had left inside, wrapping the blanket and throwing the bundle in the nearest chest.

"Stephen? Are you alright in there?"

"I- I'm just fine, Bruce!" he yelled, his voice shaking with fear. "I'll just be a minute!"

No reply came, but he could almost feel the concern emanating from the village priest outside. He had to work fast.

The hatchling walked forward and watched him questioningly. It squeaked, wondering what its parent was doing and why he appeared so stressed.

Steve turned and looked at the hatchling. He had to do something, but would it listen to him? If the village discovered its existence…

…he had no doubt they would not hesitate to kill it.

All instincts in his body were suddenly surging in anger at the thought. He could feel the foreign power making his blood boil, roaring in fury.

NO. He would NOT let that happen.

Steve knelt down in front of the hatchling, which stepped forward and sniffed one of his pant legs, tail wagging.

"Hatchling, look at me."

The dragon chick stopped and glanced up at him, glowing purple eyes wide and curious.

"Listen. I know you probably don't speak Craftian, but I NEED you to try to understand what I'm saying to you, right now."

The dragon stared at him, sensing the importance behind its parent's tone.

"Stay in here, please. PLEASE, stay." Steve gestured with his hands for the hatchling to stay in the room, his face pleading.

The child tilted its head.

"Please," Steve begged, his blue eyes concerned and staring unflinchingly into the purple eyes of the hatchling.

The dragon chick paused for a few seconds… and then bobbed its head up and down.

Steve sat dumbstruck. Had the hatchling just _nodded_? No, he had to be imagining things-

The hatchling sat back on its haunches and folded its wings, watching him silently.

"Stephen! Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm c-coming!" Steve glanced back down at the hatchling one last time, and dashed from the room, closing the door behind him. He wasn't sure whether or not he had seen what he thought he saw, but he didn't have much of a choice right now but to believe it and pray to Notch that he was right.

He opened the front door, and sure enough, Reverend Bruce was there, right outside. Behind him stood another NPC villager, a girl one this time – she was wearing generic villager robes and a wide-brimmed hat to protect her head from the sun's rays. Steve recognized her as Villager Elsa, and he tried to smother his nervousness by plastering a fake smile on his face.

"Hey, Elsa! Good evening to you, Bruce. Having trouble with the water well again?" He mentally cringed at his exaggerated tone – to him, he sounded completely false, and he was sure the others could tell. If they did, they didn't seem to notice.

"It's gone far beyond that, Stephen," Bruce said, looking very worried. "May we come inside? We need to speak with you of an urgent matter, and it is growing cold."

Steve hesitated, but he could see from the looks on their faces that they were distraught. He was terrified that they would discover the hatchling, but if he exhibited any more odd behavior, that could lead to questions, which would be even more dangerous. And he had never turned away anyone from his door.

Stepping aside, he let the two NPCs file into his kitchen.

Bruce didn't waste a single minute. "Elsa tried to repair the water well herself, but it only ended in disaster – the rest of the water pipes broke, which caused her house to flood. Not only has this resulted in the ruining of her home, but it also destroyed all of her torches, and now mobs are spawning inside and around the general area! The fences have kept them contained and the rest of the village is safe for now, but Elsa has been forced to room with Gretchen until it can be repaired."

Steve kept glancing subtly towards the back door, trying to keep tabs on the dragon chick. He could see it peeking curiously through the window. As quickly as he could without drawing attention, he positioned himself between the door and the NPC's line of sight.

"And you need me to take care of the mobs for you?"

"Yes, if you could eliminate the monsters, we can get back inside and clean up the water damage. Villager Archibald knows how to repair pipes, since he's the oldest and most experienced of us, and we asked him to help, but none of us can fight, Stephen."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do. Whose house again?"

"Villager Elsa's. Stephen, are you sure you're alright? You seem a little out of sorts, lately."

"I'm f-fine," he managed to squeak out, earning looks of concern from the two villagers. "Why don't we go right now and check out the house? I'll take my sword and bow."

"Please," Reverend Bruce said, pleading.

Steve sighed and glanced quickly over his shoulder to check if the dragon chick was still visible. It wasn't, thank Notch, at least for the others – perhaps it had decided to stop peeking through the window. As quick as possible, he rushed to his storage chests and removed his weapons – a bow that he rarely used, enchanted with Infinity, and his two diamond swords – the half-broken one and the brand new one – which he strapped across his back. He couldn't very well refuse this job, considering the villagers had been kind enough to take him in before he had set up his own house – he was lucky they had let him spend his first night there, or he likely would have been eaten alive by spiders and zombies, or skewered by skeleton arrows.

Heading out the door, he waited as the two NPCs followed him back to the front yard, and he gave a slight sigh of relief that the danger had momentarily passed.

As he walked down the pathway, he couldn't help the twinge of worry that bothered him as he left the hatchling behind. He had to get this job over with fast, and he could only pray that it would remain safely back in the house.

**A/N: Some of you were like "OMG this is going to be so funny, watching Steve struggle to hide the dragon!" Well, I'll be honest, I actually did want to write that sequence, but it didn't really turn out that way :/ I couldn't figure out how to make the dragon 'misbehave' in such a way that Steve could handle and yet still have the villagers not notice.**

**It looks like Steve is being called out for another errand for the villagers. What do you think will happen?**


End file.
